An account of some kjoekkenmoeddings, or shell-heaps, in Maine and Massachusetts

In Short

This scientific report investigates the kjoekkenmoeddings—or shell-middens—found along the coasts of Maine and Massachusetts. By methodically excavating these ancient kitchen refuse heaps, the author reconstructs the dietary habits, resourcefulness, and material culture of the Indigenous tribes who frequented these shores. Through the cataloging of broken animal bones, shell species, and fashioned bone implements, the study provides a window into a vanished era, grounding historical speculation in the physical evidence of what was eaten, how it was prepared, and the tools utilized in the process.

The Story

The inquiry begins with the premise that rubbish is a mirror of civilization. Just as the debris of a modern city reveals the habits of its inhabitants, the accumulated shell-heaps of the Atlantic coast serve as monuments to the seasonal and permanent lives of Indigenous peoples. The author sets out to move beyond general descriptions, conducting focused excavations at specific sites in Frenchman’s Bay, Goose Island, Ipswich, Salisbury, and Cape Cod.

At each location, the narrative of the excavation unfolds. The author and his colleagues sink pits into the earth, tracing layers of shell, vegetable mould, and charcoal. At Frenchman’s Bay, they uncover distinct strata that suggest the site was occupied, abandoned, and reoccupied over generations. At Crouch’s Cove, the sheer variety of remains—ranging from common clams to land snails and various mammals—paints a picture of a diverse environment. The author meticulously documents the species identified, noting not only the food sources but also the geological markers of time, such as the disintegration of shells and the growth of forest cover.

The investigation into the bones found within these heaps provides the most visceral details of the narrative. The author describes a systematic method of consumption: the long bones of deer and elk are shattered to extract marrow, and even the bones of smaller creatures are broken down for cooking or processing. The study highlights the presence of the Great Auk, a bird now extinct in the region, serving as a biological timekeeper. The author also notes the near-total absence of stone implements in some sites compared to the relative abundance of bone tools, such as awls, chisels, and modified antlers.

As the account moves toward its conclusion, the author addresses the question of the age of these sites. He contrasts the American shell-heaps with those of Denmark, concluding that while there is no evidence of "high antiquity" comparable to European findings, the lack of European artifacts—like glass or metal—confirms these heaps predate or were isolated from early colonial contact. The story closes with a comprehensive table of species, summarizing the findings across all sites. The final image is one of quiet, methodical closure: the collected artifacts are deposited in museums, and the physical sites, prone to the erosive power of the sea, are left to their eventual disappearance. The author’s argument is complete: though the people and their specific campfires are long gone, their history remains embedded in the very earth of the coastline.

How It Unfolds

The rationale of debris The author establishes a scientific framework for archaeology, arguing that the refuse of daily life is the most honest record of a culture's advancement and habits. He posits that by comparing these remnants to modern conditions, one can deduce the environmental and social circumstances of those who built the heaps.

The sites of Maine The inquiry moves to Frenchman’s Bay and Goose Island, where the author describes the stratified nature of the deposits. He details the discovery of fireplaces and the presence of two distinct layers of occupation, indicating a long-term, cyclical use of the land.

The excavations in Massachusetts The focus shifts to Eagle Hill, Salisbury, and the shores of Cape Cod. Here, the author notes the contrast between the various sites, observing that while some are rich in animal remains and bone tools, others are sparse, providing a comparative look at how different locations were utilized for hunting and fishing.

The analysis of animal remains The narrative dives into a forensic examination of the discarded bones, explaining how marrow extraction and communal cooking shaped the physical state of the recovered fragments. The author uses these patterns to draw parallels between Indigenous habits in New England and those of other cultures globally.

The dating of the heaps The final section addresses the age of the sites by analyzing the lack of European contact, the depth of vegetable mould, and the extinct species present. The author concludes that these heaps represent a significant, though not geological, expanse of time, ending the report by cataloging the findings for future researchers.

The People

The book is primarily a work of observation and evidence, yet it centers on the figure of the author, Jeffries Wyman, who acts as a careful and curious guide through the coastal landscape. He is a man of precise habits, driven by the desire to turn "rubbish" into historical data. He is flanked by a group of collaborators and predecessors, including Mr. C. B. Fuller, Mr. Edward S. Morse, and Mr. F. W. Putnam. These men want to preserve the physical history of the region, often racing against the encroaching sea, which threatens to wash the shell-heaps away.

The Indigenous peoples whose lives are being reconstructed remain, by necessity, anonymous. They are the protagonists of a life defined by the seasons, the tide, and the hunt. They appear through their actions: the way they broke bones to reach marrow, the way they worked bone into tools, and the way they gathered around fires to share "hodge-podge" pottages. They are presented not as primitive shadows, but as pragmatic and skilled inhabitants of a landscape they managed for centuries. Finally, the earlier writers and chroniclers like Josselyn, Rasles, and Wood serve as secondary figures. Their historical accounts of the Indigenous people’s diet and customs act as a bridge between the author's scientific findings and the lived experience of the people who created the heaps.

In Its Own Voice

Any one who would take the trouble on going to a strange city, to examine the rubbish in its suburbs and streets, and carefully collect and compare the fragments of pottery, pieces of cloth, of paper, cordage, the bones of different animals used as food, worked pieces of stone, wood, bone, or metal, might gain some insight into the modes of life of the inhabitants.

This opening statement serves as the author's thesis, applying the logic of urban archaeology to the study of ancient shell-heaps.

The clam, the quahog, the scallop, and the oyster, entered largely into their food, and the castaway shells of these, piled up during many years, have not only become monuments of their sea-shore life, but have largely aided in the preservation of the bones of the animals on which they fed.

This passage explains the vital role that discarded shells played in protecting organic materials from the acidity of the soil.

What It's Really About

The central theme is the reconstruction of history through the material reality of the discarded. The book explores the tension between the ephemeral nature of human activity and the enduring quality of what we leave behind. Beneath the technical descriptions lies a question about the definition of civilization: the author suggests that the "rudeness" of an object does not signify a lack of complexity, but rather a different, highly specialized mode of survival. By looking at the remnants of food and tool-making, the book argues that humanity’s progress is written in the debris of the kitchen and the workshop. It is an argument for the dignity of the ordinary, asserting that even a pile of clam shells contains the truth of a human life.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in archaeology, natural history, or the coastal landscape of New England will find this volume deeply rewarding. It is not a fast-paced narrative, but rather a slow, deliberate walk through history. The prose is clear and unadorned, reflecting the author’s scientific rigor and his genuine respect for the subject matter.

However, a modern reader must be prepared for the book's period-specific language and attitudes; the author writes from the perspective of the 19th-century scientific establishment, which colors his terminology and his assumptions about the "savage" condition. He is, however, notably free from the sensationalism that often plagued such accounts in his time. What stays with you is the haunting contrast between the abundance of the past—the elk, the Great Auk, and the vast, thriving oyster beds—and the quiet, eroded reality of these sites today. It is a book that forces you to look at the ground beneath your feet with new eyes, wondering what stories remain buried in the layers of the world. It provides a tactile connection to a past that, while largely vanished, is still physically present in the soil of the coast.